2 weeks still (march 8)
And then there were fourteen days. It was all the usual stuff. Me on my bed watching episodes of some series which I probably have seen more than 4 times trying to remember what happened last night, or the other nights. No, I didn’t get drunk. I think I’d have to pass drinking, and maybe smoking. I never should have smoked. I know it won’t do me any good still I did. Just credit it to experience. Though I won’t, for a moment, say it’s a bad experience, neither is it a good one. Enough with that. For now, I’m thinking of getting rid of all the vices I have. That goes for eating a lot, drinking a lot, eating a lot again, spending a lot, cutting classes a lot(pause…..) playing computer games a lot. I think these have all contributed in what could be a boring ending to my college life. But that won’t happen in 3 years or so. Well, by that, I mean college life. I’m not saying I regret having done all those things. I hate regret.
I could foresee now how I would spend my next three years. I’d wake up early, probably around 5 or 6, have my breakfast with the rest of the family, take a bath, rummage through my cabinet for something to wear and then realize I’d have to wear a uniform, go to school, sit down and listen to the lecture, walk around campus (which would probably take a mere 10 minutes) text some old friends about how bored I am, maybe sit in on another friend’s class, wait till Friday, and then have something to smile about. Maybe, just maybe, someone to smile about, or with.
It’s a frustration that, after almost 5 years, I hadn’t had the courage to make a move for someone, stand for someone, or be for someone. I guess love life isn’t really for me. And I get flashbacks on all the failed relationships I wish I had. Then again, in the last minutes of a man’s life, he gets to have the strength to do what he cannot. I’m not dying. Maybe, just a part of me is.
I remember how amazed I get whenever I see a friend cry without much of a reason and ask her how she could break a tear so easily. Then again, the only time I cried, as I could remember, was when my parents almost got separated. And, back then, I was crying insane embracing my mom tightly and saying nothing when she was asking why I did so and if my father had something to do with it(the crying) But when my dad asked me why I was crying, I just told him I was failing 2 subjects. I guess that started all the complacent-with-failing-attitude. Then again, most of the times, my father was the reason why I cried. And crying or just simply breaking a tear makes me remember those times. But then again, it doesn’t matter anymore. The past is the past, and now, I’m facing a future with much predictability.
From this day forth, I’ll be able to tell myself again, “sabi sa’yo eh” Something I haven’t done in years or so since previously, the environment I was in was unpredictable; which takes me back to the nights I was trying to remember. It makes me a bit sad that none of those nights or days was spent the way I thought of them in a way that somebody would at the last few days of his life. The way Aryton Senna drives his every race, the way Micheal Jordan plays his every game or the way Buduy plays his every dota(buwis buhay. Haha) “play every game as if it were your last” And it makes me extra sadder that each of those nights missed a certain person. But then again, I had those nights with almost everyone whom I’d readily end my day with. It now sucks that I have to end this with a cheesy line. And it sucks a bit more feeling that I won’t be what I’ve been picturing 4 years ago; a man standing tall, head up high with a piece of cloth tied from shoulder to waist with his right fist closed and resting on his left chest and his left hand clutching the spirit of honor and excellence.